


Come Back Home

by Fuzzball457



Series: Any Day Now [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 04:16:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21422035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzzball457/pseuds/Fuzzball457
Summary: Finally, a little progress and a little hope.(The beginning of the poly feels you've waited through 40k of angst for.)
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette
Series: Any Day Now [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1030280
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	Come Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> Um...hello. I'm sorry it's been ten thousand years. Frankly, I'm still not satisfied with the ending. It's rushed, I know, but the reality is I don't have the time to fix it so it's this or nothing. I know I'm not doing justice to the dozens of tiny issues I've set up, but oh well. Please love it as it is. 
> 
> In other news, I was lucky enough to have a chance to see Hamilton live this past weekend in Philadelphia and it was so amazing! It reawakened my love and reminded me what it was about Hamilton that first captured my attention. 
> 
> This is, as far as I can tell, the end of this series. However, it's not 100% out of the question that I might add little one-shots later. As I've told many of you, I've been really impressed with my writing in this series and I initially had plans to go way beyond where the ending currently is. There probably won't be any other full-length additions. I've also considered pulling this fic and transforming it into an original work with the eventual goal of publication. If that ends up happening, I'll let you all know just in case anyone would be interested in reading it. 
> 
> Feel free to chat with me on tumblr @ rose-of-tori. 
> 
> Title & inspiration taken from Come Back Home (Acoustic Ver) by 2NE1. Check it out if you need a stab in the feels.

The door to John’s room is still closed when Alex gets up. The guest room, that is, but how easy it is to think of it as John’s room. How easy it is to picture the three of them here, happy together – it’s intoxicating. It’s a slippery slope though, and Alex knows if he spends too much time with fantasies he’ll only end up disappointed.

John is like a watercolor painting. If you stand back, it’s lovely. The picture’s complete, the colors artfully touching. But if you get too close, you can see that spot where the painter let the water bleed a little too much. The edges are fuzzy, the colors uneven.

John is his own messy watercolor painting of a complete man and Alex almost doesn’t notice all those little blemishes because the picture as a whole is oh so pretty. John is back. He’s well on his way to a physical recovery. But yesterday’s events brought those tiny little mistakes into alarming focus.

Alex can feel himself speeding towards a Y in the road far faster than he can ever prepare for. He’s going to crash into the brush, indecisive for one second too long. Eventually he’ll have to pick John or Lafayette. Maybe he can put off the inevitable for a while. He can let it all hang unannounced and unlabeled while John recovers. They can just be three good friends paling around together. But eventually, John will be ready for a relationship. He’ll want clear boundaries and expectations. And Alex will have to make an impossible choice.

He drops his gaze to stare into the swirling depths of his coffee. It’s that massively oversized mug that Lafayette bought him as a joke, unprepared for Alex to genuinely use the thing. Who are they kidding, it’s not like Alex wouldn’t have two cups anyway. This just saves a trip to the coffee machine.

“You’re up early,” Lafayette observes as he busies himself with making toast. Two slices of sourdough for Lafayette and two slices of rye for Alex, just like any other morning. “Butter or jelly?” he asks from inside the fridge. Alex doesn’t answer. He likes to leave Lafayette dangling his naked top half in the fridge for as long as possible. Just for fun. “So childish,” Lafayette scolds when he finally decides Alex isn’t going to answer. “Bad children get butter.”

Alex sticks his tongue out and almost forgets for a moment that his long lost love is back from the dead just one floor above them.

“I had a very interesting conversation with John last night,” Lafayette begins as he pours himself a cup of coffee and butters his toasted bread. He likes it so light that Alex doesn’t even see the point in toasting it at all. Alex likes his black and crunchy. Like toast was meant to be.

“What? When?” He can’t keep the hint of accusation out of his voice. The way Lafayette’s eyes cut quickly to him and back again tells Alex it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Alexander,” Lafayette scolds lightly.

“Well?” he demands. “When were you having this little kumbaya? While I was sleeping?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” he snaps. “We went out back and sang campfire songs while you were sleeping. Toasted marshmallows and talked about how much fun it is emotionally torturing you.” The impatient flit of his tone, however, tells Alex that something most definitely did happen during this conversation last night. He can’t help the acidic sting of betrayal that rises at the back of his throat. Somehow Lafayette and John ran in to each and neither one thought Alex ought to brought in on the conversation.

“You know I wanted to talk to him,” Alex reminds, voice tight and hitched. But seriously, in what world ever did Lafayette not think to fetch Alex? Did John ask him not to? Just like he didn’t want Alex to come pick him up? It’s like he brought two halves of a circle together only to realize that his own half no longer fit.

Lafayette stops his aggressive buttering, which is honestly a good thing because Alex’s toast is falling to bits under his tense ministrations, and takes a measured breath. His gaze is open and apologetic when he looks up at Alex and that’s really all it takes for Alex to forgive him. It was a foolish thought. John and Lafayette aren’t out conspiring against him. He should be glad that John spoke to someone. They’re all doing their best in an impossible situation. These waters are rocky and uncharted. A misstep here and there is hardly call for the attack dogs.

“I’m sorry. I thought I heard John get up late in the evening.”

The pieces slot together quickly enough. “The glass of water.”

With a confirming nod, Lafayette continues, “I went to check on him downstairs. You were asleep when I got back.”

“You could have woken me up. You should have. What if John needed me?” It’s a stupid question to ask because if John had asked for Alex, Lafayette would have fetched him. Which means the only answer to the question is that John didn’t need him.

Alex just can’t understand it. He’d do anything, _any-fucking-thing _for John Laurens. And all John wants it to shut himself away and flounder. He knows John needs someone. He knows it deep in his bones just like he knows he’ll never not love both of his foolish men. And he’s willing to be that someone. Yet John marches around, content to fly solo and crash horribly. A co-pilot’s no good if you leave him on the tarmac.

“It was…an interesting conversation.” Alex looks up. He knows John. He knows how the twenty-something can look like a lost puppy who’s full of energy and sweetness if only someone will give him a second glance. He also knows Lafayette. He knows the bleeding heart that chooses to view the world through bright colors and lives to make others see those colors too.

Spark, meet match. It’s that easy.

“You love him.” Not a question. A statement.

Alex’s toast deteriorates further as Lafayette suddenly resumes shoving long-melted butter around with renewed vigor.

“He’s a lovely person, _mon cher_. You of all people should know that.” Alex slips from his barstool and goes around the counter. Leaning around Lafayette he plucks the abused butter knife from his fingers and discards it in the sink. The muscles of Lafayette’s back are rigid under his fingers. “I hardly know him,” Lafayette argues, eyes firmly fixed on the toast.

“But you saw something in him,” Alex continues, eyes peering curiously at the side of Lafayette’s face. It’s almost a proud feeling, like he picked a satisfactory puppy at the pound to bring home. Lafayette sees what Alex saw all those years ago. He saw the same gentle boy with a heart too big and eyes that sparkled with mischief. Somehow through all those new layers of hurt and isolation Lafayette caught a glimpse of the person Alex had loved.

But what does that mean? Maybe, he thinks slowly as he lets his hand drop off of Lafayette’s back, it isn’t for the best. He wants John and Lafayette to get along, of course. Ideally they’d even be friends so they can tackle the monstrosity of recovery that faces John together. But love, Alex knows oh so well, is nothing if not messy.

“It doesn’t matter. I hardly know him, I certainly can’t love him.”

Alex hears a yet at the end of the sentence, even though Lafayette bites it off.

Maybe it only tangles things further. He’s not even sure what choice faces him anymore. Is it a choice between Lafayette and John? Will the other fade out forever? Was sort of choice is that? How can he take these two halves of his life and rip one free? It’s like picking apart a rope. It’s possible, the thousands of little fibers can be separated with enough patience and some long finger nails. But once they’re separated, they can’t be put back together and each little fiber is ruined, permanently kinked from its time as part of a whole.

Upstairs, the shower turns on, drawing both of their gazes to the ceiling. For a brief moment Alex wishes the ceiling would collapse onto him so that he’ll never have to make such horrid choices. Maybe John and Lafayette can skip off into the sunset together and Alex can smile down on them from the afterlife.

The ceiling isn’t that merciful it would seem. It remains structurally sound and Alex is still standing in the kitchen staring at it like he’s got a permanent crick in his neck.

“I don’t know what the hell to do,” he mumbles quietly as he finally lets his chin drop. Lafayette stands for a moment, thoughtfully poised, before he takes a quick breath and begins to move with that air of purpose that seems to float around him at all times. He’s decisive and confident, the total opposite of Alex’s wilted stalk of indecision.

“To begin with, what sort of bread does John like?”

“Rye, I think. With grape jelly.”

The glass jar of purple jelly clinks onto the counter. It’s local, a mason jar from a farmers market with a hand written sticker. The loaf of bread drops softly next to it.

“Rye with grape jelly it is.”

“Jelly.”

Lafayette’s eyebrows arch, unimpressed. “Yes, Alexander. John deserves jelly, unlike some people.”

\--

Alex rounds up some clothes that he hopes will fit John. As the shower snicks off, he takes a few deep breaths before knocking on the door.

“Brought you some clothes,” he calls. “And there’s some toast downstairs for you.”

“Thanks, I’ll be out in a minute.” A dismissal, like Alex only came up here to play messenger. That’s not going to cut it anymore.

“You said we’d talk tomorrow, John. And it’s tomorrow now. We need to talk.”

There’s only silence. It’s an impossible balance to push just enough, not too hard and not too soft. Where’s Goldilocks when you need her?

The door opens in a rush. John’s still wet from his shower, but, in addition to the towel around John’s thin waist, there’s a large one thrown casually over his shoulders. It looks unintentional, but Alex can see the way the edges are set just so to block his view of the neck bruises and the pokey ribs. John’s hair looks flat and pathetic like this, uneven strands plastered to his head. Realistically, they’ll probably have to get the whole thing cut even shorter to establish some semblance of evenness.

“You want to talk, so talk. Say whatever it is you came here to say.” Alex’s eyes move from the hair to John’s accusing eyes. John’s hair has always been a sense of pride and Alex suspects its loss is almost worse than any physical blow he could receive.

“I…I…” Don’t know what to say, apparently. A great chasm is growing between them, stretching ever wider by the second. How can Alex ever breach it’s width and pull John back? He’s trying to reel in a fish that’s stronger than him and every foot closer is followed by two feet further away.

“Well?”

John’s eyes pin Alex to his spot like a bug specimen. Alex has grown meek through the absence of John, which was an ordeal in and of itself for Alex. He’s changed. And so has John, but not in the same way. Their push and pull once curved together in perfect synchronicity. Now they’re out of whack, two struggling arrows flying in wildly different directions. Alex can’t tell anymore what’s a mask and what’s not. He can’t tell if this shrewdness in John runs deep and the meekness is an act conditioned into him through fear of pain. Or perhaps the shrewdness is a façade to pull on to hide the small thing inside that’s scared and hurt. It scares Alex to not know because once upon a time he would have known every flicker of John’s eyes.

Alex’s shoulders curl in defensively and his takes half a step back. A withered man in nothing but towels should not be capable of such intimidation, but John has always been able to fly by his passions.

“I didn’t, like, come here to say something specific. I just thought we should, you know, talk.”

“About?” John is truly offering him no outs. He’s going to make Alex struggle for every word.

“Well,” he snorts in frustration, “about everything. About what happened. About what you want to happen in the future. Stuff.”

“Stuff.”

“Yes, John. Fucking stuff. Can you just, like, help me out here a little? I am trying, you know.” It comes out more desperate than biting, even though Alex thinks he’s entitled to a little anger himself. This isn’t easy for anyone.

John opens his mouth quickly and Alex draws up his mental barriers, but nothing comes out. John’s eyes close and he takes a few shallow breaths in through his nose.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” John raises a hand and massages it along his temple in a gesture so purely _John_ that it melts Alex on the spot. “I don’t know why I keep doing that. My emotions are all messed up. _Everything _is all messed up.”

“So let me help you sort it out.” He reaches out to cup John’s cheek, but it feels too intense, like it’ll shatter the tentative bridge they’re building. Instead his hand lands awkwardly on John’s shoulder like he’s a couch giving a pep talk to a particularly down-trodden athlete.

John’s face is unreadable as he searches for something on Alex’s face. Alex knows they’re playing two different games. Alex is running full tilt in for a hug while John is still backed in a corner with a knife, shaking with residual fear. Someone will surely be hurt.

Once upon a time the love in their hearts was enough. But it’s not anymore. Alex is clinging to a ghost, hoping it’ll be enough to revive something long dead while all John can see is a future without him in it. They need to stop circulating in their own little orbits. They need to get on the same page. They can’t be delicate. They need to be honest.

“Alright,” John agrees evenly. “Let me change,” he adds as he grabs the bundle of clothes out of Alex’s hand.

“I think Lafayette should join us,” he blurts. It’s not a fully formed idea and he certainly can’t back it if John wants to debate, but he sees his window of opportunity closing. He can’t spring Lafayette’s presence on John and it’s better to give him a chance to mull it over while he changes. “Only if you want,” he adds, and means it. “If you’d rather it be just us, or if you’d rather we talk together just us first then with him, that’s fine too. It’s your call. But know that Laf is a good listener and he’s one of those weirdly wise dudes who likes to spout therapist-y stuff.”

John stares into the bundle of clothes and picks listlessly at a stray thread. Alex’s heart sinks a little and he curses himself for being disappointed. It’s John’s call, truly, and Alex can’t ask him to make this choice based on Alex’s wants. But...he and John alone slip too easily into hypnotic pull of the past. They need someone free of the twisted mess of regurgitated love, someone who can provide a little rationality. And of course there’s his level-headed way of approaching problems.

Maybe Alex just doesn’t want to do this alone.

“Sure,” John says weakly. “If you think he’ll help.” He disappears into the room without ever making eye contact. Alex wants to reach out and snatch his words back. Anything to rewind because, for a moment, things weren’t so hard. For a moment it was like they were finally working in tandem again. But the moment is lost and Alex is grasping at empty air.

Lafayette acquiesces gracefully, as Alex knew he would, and suggests the comfort of the living room, with its huge windows and their glorious view of the mountains in the distance.

It’s awkward at first, the three of them truly together for the first time. John holds his plate of toast, but doesn’t eat any. The sun shines brightly on them and there are some excited blue jays twittering happily just outside the window. It feels obnoxious next to their cloud of diseased grey murkiness.

Lafayette, of course, has no reservations and begins promptly as if he’s oblivious to the tense atmosphere. “I think, for the sake of clarification, we ought to begin with our immediate plans. Now, John, regardless of your opinion of me, please know you may continue to use the guest room as long as you’d like. Help yourself to the kitchen at any time and let me know if there’s something specific you’d like to eat.”

John’s uncomfortable. It’s evident to anyone with eyes. John’s gaze skitters across the ground and his fingers rub absently at the back of his neck. But Alex understands that it’s important for John to hear it and to know that he can stay here unconditionally. There is the other apartment, but now that John is back, it feels more like an abandoned space than a revered shrine. It’s formed into a cold impression in Alex’s mind and he would have no qualms about packing it up and selling it. For now though, he’d rather keep things simple. Bringing it up might suggest to John that Alex would rather he leave.

“But why? I mean, doesn’t it make more sense for me to go back to our – I mean the old apartment? And you guys can stay here?”

Alex curses himself for even letting the thought cross his mind. He jinxed it and sent mental waves to John unintentionally.

“It’s up to you, of course,” Lafayette responds quietly like the real adult he is. Thank God he’s here because so far Alex has just watched the conversation like a tennis spectator. “But I think both Alexander and myself would prefer you stay here. For your peace of mind and ours.”

John pegs Lafayette with a stare and Alex can see the question trembling on his lips as clearly as if he’d shouted it. _Why do you care about me? _But then Alex remembers that Lafayette and John had some sort of late night soul-searching conversation last night. That question was undoubtedly already asked.

But there’s something else there, something lurking under the surface. It takes him a minute to peel back all the layers. He thinks about John’s concerns about paying rent when they were at the hospital and his vehement claims of having to rely solely on himself for so long.

It all comes back to control.

“It’s not an obligation. You’re not a prisoner here,” Alex finally speaks up. “I know it probably feels restrictive, living here, and…” Dare he say it? “If you’d rather stay at the other place, really, it’s fine. I’ll stay with you if you’d like. It’s whatever you want. You don’t owe anything for staying here.”

“I just don’t understand.” John’s voice strikes through their soothing words. He stares at Lafayette and Alex truly sees incomprehension, not denial, on his face. “How are you okay with this? I know I’m not much of a threat, looking like this,” his hands gestures violently about his person, “but still!” John tugs at his hair like the answers might come tumbling out if he tries hard enough. “I mean, do you truly not care if Alex leaves you or…or do truly think there’s no way Alex would ever pick someone like me over someone like you?”

In the crushed cadence, Alex realizes that, for all of John’s talks of Lafayette and Alex as a better couple, he wants Alex back. Logic is a weak wall in the face of emotion, especially something as mighty as love.

Lafayette doesn’t respond immediately, which tells Alex that John’s blow landed just as crippling as he intended. Maybe more so, as Lafayette has never hidden his emotions or barbed his words out of spite. When he finally speaks, it’s slow and soft, each word carefully chosen.

“I was unaware we were in a competition for Alexander’s affections. I fail to see why we three can’t exist harmoniously together for the foreseeable future.”

“And what, we just pass Alex around? I can have him on Wednesdays and every other weekend?”

Lafayette’s brow furrows in that way that usually suggests he’s reaching the end of his patience. It’s nice to know Alex isn’t that only one who can summon that look. “What do you mean ‘have him’? I can’t speak to or look at him when he is yours? Can you so easily turn off your affections? I know I certainly can’t.”

“You know what I mean!” But Alex is not entirely sure that anyone does.

“Can we not share our affections simultaneously?” Alex wants Lafayette to stop using the word ‘affections’ like some saccharine marriage counselor, but his voice is a rock lodged in his throat and he can only keep swallowing it down to avoid choking.

John flies to his feet. “As a matter of fact, no. I can’t fucking sit around calling Alex my boyfriend while you two are down the hall fucking!”

Lafayette rises quickly, letting his not unimpressive frame hover over John’s. It’s not in Lafayette’s nature to shout, even when angry, but the tight pinch at the corner of his eyes suggests there will be no more bullshit in this conversation. “So the problem is sex, then? Well, _mon dieu, _you are more than welcome to join us whenever you’d like!”

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Alex mutters while John blinks and begins combusting internally. Alex has never heard a threesome offered as threat, even a haggard one as this, but there it is, out in the open.

“_What does that even mean?” _John whispers as he sinks back into his chair, ego and anger deflated all in one well-aimed poke.

Lafayette settles back in his chair and picks up his cup of tea urgently. He holds the warm mug close to his chest without taking a sip. Alex can tell by the slight furrow of his brow that he hadn’t intended to say that in such a manner. Too late now. Alex resists the urge to reach out and fix an errant strand of Lafayette’s springy hair. That’s the last thing John needs right now.

The thought catches Alex abruptly. Surely that’d be the problem. Even if they established some sort of polyamorous situation, things would never be equal. John would always be on the lookout for tacit hints of being an unwanted third wheel. It’s easy for Alex, of course, he’s always held his love for them both in his heart. Lafayette had always known that, had embraced it even.

_You love him._

Alex might not believe in love at first sight, even for someone like Lafayette, but then, John isn’t a stranger to Lafayette. Alex had loved John and so every story, every little anecdote was tainted with that love. It wasn’t sudden. Alex’s love for John has been slowly ingraining itself in Lafayette for months.

In fact, the more he thinks on it, the easier it all seems. The pieces slot into place of their own accord. Hadn’t he said as much just a few days ago while talking on the phone to Lafayette?

_It’s not a one-way. We support each other. And John, he’s in a bad place right now. But he’s the most caring, compassionate person. He’s sweet in ways you’ll never expect and he’d do anything for the people he loves. Once he’s feeling better…he’ll be there for us too._

Suddenly, there’s a weight of an entirely different kind in his throat. It’s hope, dripping its syrupy sweetness down into his chest where it blossoms into something wild and unmanageable. He tries to tell himself to stop, to not get ahead of himself, but it’s there nonetheless. An idea that once seemed so profoundly foolish is there in his mind, taking shape and blotting out the horrid murkiness of choosing between the two people he loves most.

“I apologize for being so crude,” Lafayette begins. “But let us be frank. We can’t remain in limbo forever. You are both operating under the delusion that a choice must be made.”

Alex goes to protest because he’s pretty sure he’s said nothing to either of them in such terms. He’s gone out of his way to keep his horrible burden to himself in fact. But the clattering of John’s mostly untouched plate onto the coffee table interrupts him.

“I’m sorry.” John’s eyes meet Lafayette’s even as his chin dips down. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m ruining everything you two have.” Alex’s objections fall on deaf ears as John gathers himself up like a collection of frail, mismatched objects. In the end it’s Lafayette’s hand that wraps gently around John’s wrist as he goes to leave that stops him.

“I understand if you need some time alone and we, of course, won’t infringe upon that. But, please, hear this: Even if you were my worst enemy, I’d rather you here with us than out there somewhere, alone. And you, John, are far from my worst enemy.”

Something sacred passes between them and Alex feels like he’s trespassing to witness it. John’s mouth hangs open just a crack, but he doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare into the endless depths of Lafayette’s gaze. Alex wants to fold John into his arms and say, see? Lafayette is wonderful and caring and he’ll be so good to you, you’ll wonder how one person can contain such kindness. He wants to say, let us love you together, sweet boy.

“You have much to think on, I’m sure.” Lafayette’s hand releases slowly, slipping along John’s palm and fingers before retreating. But it’s John who looks bereft of the contact. He tracks the graceful curve the other man’s hand makes as it withdraws silently before blinking and glancing up to stare at the room at large.

“I do,” he agrees softly before treading quietly out of the room.

It’s as if Alex’s strength was dragged out behind John because he sinks immediately back into his seat in a slouch that will make his back protest in a few hours. His hair is in a little ponytail and he reaches up to fiddle with the soft ends. It’s a little frizzled. He’ll need a trim soon to get rid of the dead ends, he notes distractedly.

“You were awfully quiet,” Lafayette observes, not unkindly.

It didn’t feel that way. Not with the way his mind was spiraling with new thoughts and building hopes. His mind constructs the possibility so quickly and there it is before him: the three of them as one happy family. It’s beautiful and golden and Alex has never wanted something so bad in his entire life.

“Did you mean it?” he demands quietly. Alex doesn’t move, but he feels like he’s thrown himself onto his knees before Lafayette. Vindicate me or put me out of my misery, he wants to cry. Kill my hope before the image becomes too imprinted in my mind to scrub out.

“My heart has love enough for two.”

Alex has never loved him more than he does at that moment.

\--

The water is a scalding cascade on the exposed skin of his back. It bites into his tender flesh and his back screams for reprieve, but Alex can only turn the faucet up higher. The bathroom’s a steamy mess and Lafayette will come knocking soon, but he doesn’t move, couldn’t if he tried. He has to breathe deeply to pull the wet air in. It sits heavily on his skin and swirls around his head like a tsunami. He tilts his head back to let the blistering spray abrade his face before dropping it forward to slip through his hair and down his spine.

John hasn’t come back out of his room, even as dinner came and went. Maybe they pushed too hard and too fast. Maybe there’s nothing in the world that could convince John to be in a relationship with the two of them. Alex isn’t even sure how to put what he wants into words. He wants both of them. He wants them all together and happy and loved. It’s a delicate hope and Alex knows that road before them will be fraught with difficulty. It’s precarious. There are many things to talk about and feelings will probably be hurt more than once.

But oh is it a beautiful thought. It fawns before Alex like the feathers of an exotic bird, layers upon layers of colors you never thought you’d find in nature, and he hopes one day to bring it into his own dreary reality.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door. It’s not unexpected. There’s nothing Lafayette can say though. Alex knows they’re on the same page. It’s a waiting game now. John will deliver his adjudication and they’ll go from there. Alex knows what he wants, knows it so clearly it hurts, but this can’t be forced. John can’t agree just because he wants Alex to be happy.

“I’ll be out in a sec.”

He reaches out and turns the faucet almost all the way off. There’s a brief splash of chilled water along his abused back before he twists the nozzle the rest of the way. A little bit of invigoration to get him out into the world.

He steps into the steamy little room – little is an understatement because Lafayette’s master bath could probably fit two of Alex’s in it – and stares down his blurred reflection. For a moment he looks like a put together person, but as the steam clears his visage morphs into that of a drowned rat. His hair hangs in damp tendrils along his shoulders and his face is flushed an uninviting red from the steam. He drags a comb through the rapidly building frizz and slips some flannel pants on. Good enough.

Perched on the edge of their bed is Lafayette with what looks like a Pinot Grigio in one of those stemless wine glasses. He glances at Alex with a faint smile on his lips, but Alex can see from his angle that it was the closed bedroom door down the hall that had held his gaze previously. It makes something tight, but not unpleasant solidify in his chest. Something along the lines of _I told you that you couldn’t not love him. _

Alex brings himself to stand in between Lafayette’s knees. The Frenchman wraps his arms low around Alex’s waist and settles his head against Alex’s chest. His skin is soft, almost unnaturally so, and his hair tickles against Alex’s drying skin. Alex bows his head so he can bury his nose in the poof that smells of vanilla and almonds.

They exist in silence, wrapped in each other’s warmth. Even if everything goes exactly as Alex desires, their world will change. Their roles will shift and their bonds will take new shapes. Everything is about to be different one way or another. It’s a little overwhelming and not unlike the static buzz that filled Alex’s senses when he first learned John was back. He feels his mind shaking, trying to track down every possibility and build contingencies. Anything and everything to get a grasp on the situation. A little control. There’s none to be had, though. This is out of his hands.

All Alex can do is stand here and let Lafayette tether him.

He won’t lose this, he decides. Even as his chest is nearly crushed beneath the weight of such a betrayal, Alex knows he won’t let Lafayette go. They’re a package deal, one John can take or leave. It feels like the desecration of something sacrosanct to even think it, but Alex can’t walk away from a love like this even if John asks. They can be three loves together or John and Alex can be but friends while Alex and Lafayette continue on. How they would even go about defining friendship between them is an impossible line to draw. What is too friendly to be normal? How can you even look at such tangled lives and pinpoint what is or isn’t normal? He won’t walk away, he won’t leave John to drown on his own. But he won’t, he can’t surrender his relationship with Lafayette as payment.

God but he doesn’t want to lose either of them.

He draws Lafayette a little closer to him and feels the twitchy warmth of tears at the back of his eyes. They don’t fall, but their weight is a heavy one nonetheless.

Someone clears their throat and Alex pulls his head up, reticent to leave his perfectly intertwined cocoon with Lafayette.

“John!” he says, going rigid. Lafayette pulls back a bit in surprise as well, but his arms still wrap around Alex’s waist and the presence of his hands along the low of Alex’s back burns. It’s a casual stance, but an intimate one. Suggestive even. Guilt pools low in Alex’s stomach. He’s blowing it, driving John away before he even got to say his piece. Look at our love, their close bodies say, and look at you over there by yourself.

“I’m sorry,” John mumbles, and any other time Alex would have laughed at the little bits of pink that dance high on John’s cheeks. “The door was open…I’ll come back-”

“No!” The word leaps out of Alex’s mouth like an involuntary bark and the loudness startles even him as it slaps the air harshly.

“Please,” Lafayette says warmly as he disentangles their bodies. He scooches back. Enough, Alex notices, to let John sit an equidistance from all of them. A triangle. “Come in. Join us.” He pats the bed encouragingly.

John shuffles a few steps closer but silently rejects the bed invitation. He stands before them, arms encased around his body, and eyes anywhere but on them. The picture of discomfort.

“Maybe we should move downstairs…?” Alex poses the offer with the thought that a more neutral space might make this easier. It’s not John coming into their space, it’s just a space for everyone. But John gives a tiny shake of his head. His hair flops pathetically with the movement. Truly they need to do something about the mess. The ring of bruises look paler, more healthy, but they’re still noticeable.

“I didn’t mean to…to interrupt. Sorry about all the fuss.”

“John, it’s fine-”

“But anyway. I just wanted to…ask, I guess. I mean I heard you before.” He shakes his head lightly like he’s trying to find something in the bottom of his mind, under trinkets and miscellaneous junk. The thoughts tumble around until a new one comes to the surface.

There’s a rush of cold anxiety through Alex’s veins. _Just spit it out, _he wants to say, though he never would. He doesn’t want to rush John and he doesn’t want him to feel stressed when he already looks a strong breeze away from toppling under his own weight. It’s just that, Alex needs to know. He wants things straight-forward. He wants to move out of this murky fog they’ve created with their unspoken thoughts and imprecise sentiments. He’s on tender hooks, even more so for John’s distressed demeanor. This isn’t sunny excitement for the budding of a new relationship. All in all, it doesn’t bode well for Alex’s happy little trio fantasy. The edges are crumbling away as he tries to get a good grip on them. The colors are smearing under his fingers.

“I don’t even understand what you want.”

“It isn’t about what we want,” Lafayette says warmly. “It’s about what you want. What you’re comfortable with.” It’s a nice sentiment. Poetic even. But, for once, Alex knows what John needs. A few years together have taught him that platitudes are like sugary water for John. All sweetness, no substance.

There’s a sliver of vindication and a little burst of pride as John shakes his head. It’s what Alex expected. Because once upon a time he knew John and some things never change.

“The three of us, together,” Alex answers. “One, big, messy couple.” He takes a few steps closer to John, careful to telegraph his movements so John can move back if he wants. Alex takes John chilled hand delicately into his own. When John offers no resistance, he holds it a bit firmer. “But, Lafayette’s right. You shouldn’t agree to anything you don’t want, just to make us happy.”

He can feel Lafayette’s presence behind him. From the corner of his eye, he can see the lanky man stretched back to rest on his elbows. He’s unobtrusive, but the relaxed curve of his body gives his implicit approval.

He’d bring John into the fold so easily it nearly takes Alex’s breath away. How did he stumble into the middle of something so beautiful?

“All of us loving each other?” John asks tentatively. His eyes skip to Lafayette briefly and Alex understands. They are but a V right now. Lafayette and John are linked only tangentially, through Alex. He doesn’t see the potential Lafayette does. It’s only fair. John has been constantly under duress here. Lafayette has been nothing but a threat to him, in his maxed out mind.

“Things don’t have to be the same between each of us,” Alex ducks his head slightly to force John’s gaze up, “but I really think you two could get along quite well if you gave it a try.”

John’s brows pitch down. He looks nothing short of pathetic. “I just…why? How can it not be simpler for you two to just…keep being? And I can…” he shrugs, as if to suggest his potential disappearance into thin air.

Alex smirks at him. He feels comfortable, confident even. For the first time since John’s return, he feels like he knows what he needs to do. His steps finally coordinate with the new dance John has slipped into. He sees the thread of familiarity, buried under masks and pain and a flaming self-preservation instinct at the front and center.

Alex’s nimble fingers reach out and capture the small of John’s chin. He lets his thumb soothe along the rough skin in little circles before tilting John’s downturned face so he can look John in the eyes. “Sweetheart, when have I ever taken the simple road?”

It gets a smile, faint and brief but present nonetheless. John looks almost startled by the automatic movement as though his lips have never quirked without his intention before.

“Pretty much never.”

It takes more than a little coaxing to get John onto the bed. Even then, his diminished frame folds into something impossibly small. He shifts constantly in little ways, a roll of the shoulder here and a rearrangement of a foot there. Take a step back, and he paints a picture of disquiet so evident it’s nearly painful to look at. Alex tries to gently unfold him with soft words and fond gazes. But no matter how much you try to unfold a paper crane, there’s always creases left behind.

In the end, nearly an hour’s worth of conversation nets them little more than tentative suggestions. It’s too early to establish any semblance of boundaries, too early for expectations even. They do agree on one thing, though: to go forward with the assumption of a loving and equal relationship between the three of them. They all swear solemnly to honesty and John agrees to get out of his own way, particularly with Lafayette. It’s such a victory Alex almost can’t believe it.

In fact, it takes scarcely three minutes into settling in for the night – Alex is with Lafayette, but only because John asked for a little space. The king bed can, of course, accommodate three easily – before Alex’s mind starts cataloguing the many issues still facing them. He knows sex will be a problem. A large one, probably. And he’s not sure if John will ever truly move away from seeing Lafayette as a threat to his relationship with Alex. Should the old apartment be sold? And, of course, there were months and months of a trauma so deep Alex couldn’t begin to unpack it for John.

“It’s a lot, _mon amour, _this is true,” Lafayette agrees easily when Alex voices his fears to the ceiling. They lay side by side, two little sardines facing down the endless dark.

“What are we going to do?”

Lafayette lets out a quiet little snort. “The only thing we can do: keep living. Keep trying.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, even though his insides are squirming and the darkness looms larger than ever around him. “Nothing to it.”

\--

The morning is stilted and awkward as they stumble around each other, throwing up a pretense of familiarity where there is none. We’re a couple now, their plaster grins and chunky laughter says, even though the gaps between us are miles wide. Alex can’t help but wonder if maybe they’ve rushed things a little. Establishing an end game doesn’t need to be the same as enacting that end game. John doesn’t know the first thing about Lafayette yet they’ve established themselves as two-thirds of this newfangled relationship.

They need to roll back the clock a little. Get to know each other first. In their haste to label this strange beast between them, they’ve ensnared themselves in expectations and connotations.

“I think we should have another talk tonight,” Alex says, tone forcibly casual as he goes about making sandwiches for lunch. Across the kitchen island, John is cutting up some fruit to go along and Alex tries not to obsessively watch the smooth up and down of the sharp knife as he does so. It feels silly to wonder if John is ready to handle cutting up an apple, but he can’t help but trace the thin ridges of his arms and the unsteady shake that seems to come over his body occasionally.

John doesn’t respond. He offers only a shrug, sending the knife on a little bob as he does so. He knows he’s doing that, right? John’s watching the knife too, right? It’s a large one. A professional eight inch stainless steel blade that could cut a finger off all too easily.

“Just to…you know, establish…” limits? desires? None of it feels quite right. He wishes Lafayette were here, but the Frenchman is at the gym. “I just don’t want you to feel forced into…uh, like, closeness?”

“Alex, what are you trying to say?” John huffs without looking up. His shoulders are drawn tight though and his neck is firmly bowed, directing any and all emotion to the cutting board. He’s not at ease and Alex is a fool for thinking things would fall into place easily if only they all agreed to love each other. As if love were a magic band-aid instead of something needy and complex.

“It just feels odd? For you and Laf to be…” What are they exactly? Are they all boyfriends now? It’s a term that invokes images of high school crushes and foolish choices, not of an adult relationship full of hardship and vicious perseverance. “For you two to be together without being friends first. But we can wait until tonight to talk, when Laf’s back and I've finished my work.”

At this John does draw his gaze upward. His chocolatey eyes are flat, shuttered away from anything close to love. The corner of his lip twitches as John nibbles at it from the inside.

“What? What’s wrong?” Alex asks. His heart is already beating quickly, even though John’s in no immediate danger. He can’t help it. He wants everything to be right, or at least okay, and each suggestion of a slip back sends him into a minor tizzy. What if they never get out of this stilted dance? What if they give it everything they’ve got and they still end up as three messy, broken people?

“It just feels like…” John’s eyes skitter over the counter top, trying to read between the white and black specs of the marble. “Like you’re trying to orchestrate something. Something that’s not there.”

“Something that’s not there?” he parrots senselessly. What does that mean? John’s breathing is slow, his body calm, if not a little shrunken in his uncertainty. But Alex’s mind is going a mile a minute. His thoughts are spinning and his body is humming. Anxiety rubs off on his every thought, tainting it with his doubts and insecurities. Alex is desperation while John is resignation.

“It’s unconventional, but…I’m really okay if we – Lafayette and I – just sort of…share you?”

“Share me?” His own words have abandoned him and he can only offer back snippets of John’s thoughts with new layers and inflections. Wasn't it only last night they went through this?

John’s symmetrical apple slices slowly transition into apple cubes as John’s restless fingers continue past the end goal. “I know you want Lafayette and me to be…whatever, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. And I know I said I would give it a shot, but we’re just so different. I don’t see how we could ever meet in the middle.”

Alex has never wanted his own wishes to hang heavily on John’s shoulders. Alex has never wanted John to feel cornered and pushed by Alex’s desires. What he wants is for John to want the same things. If John _wanted_ to want Lafayette, then this guilt wouldn’t pull so tightly around his chest and his words wouldn’t clog his throat as he tries to assemble the best response.

But that’s not what John wants. Even if they start in the same spot, even if the angle between them is so acute it’s hardly discernable, eventually they will run far enough that the difference in their trajectories, their goals, will create vast expanses between then. It’ll be too late then to course correct.

_I don’t want to be shared_, he thinks, indulging in such petulance in his own mind. _I want to share you. I want us all to want each other, an equal investment. _It doesn’t seem right that Alex should be the only one blessed with the love of two, especially when he knows that John and Lafayette, for all their differences, burn with enough love and passion to take two into their hearts. He loves them both, so much so that it takes away his breath and makes him want to weep sometimes, but he could never give enough to the both of them to make up for what they give him. It feels too unequal, for him to always have the luxury of choice in who he turns to. If Lafayette is busy or down, Alex can turn to John, but if Alex is busy or down, John is adrift alone.

There’s a small part of him too, that knows he could never sustain two boyfriends if he was their sole link to intimacy and compassion. A V can’t stand on it’s own, but a tripod can, as each leg bears the same burden and responsibility.

And he knows, just as he knows John likes too much sugar in his coffee, but hates sweetened coffee creamers, that John will drift off. He’ll sever his ties eventually, feeling like a stray can caught up in the momentum of Lafayette and Alex’s love. It’s not sustainable like that. Alex will drive himself to an early grave trying to keep his affections, his time, his love, perfectly equal between the two.

He hums, keeping the anxious jumble of fear bottled in the back of his mind. “Let’s talk more tonight. I think you should give this a try before giving up,” he says, voice careful and even. It won’t work in a V, he wants to say, but he knows John will run if the only choice before him is imposing and vulnerable. It can’t be all in or all out because emotions never run that smoothly and John will not offer to strip himself bare before such lacerating possibilities. “I think you two would enjoy spending time together.”

\--

John isn’t sure if it’s intentional or not, but Alex is already bordering on twenty-five minutes late to the meeting, or whatever the hell they’re calling it, that Alex himself planned for that evening. Lafayette fills the gap easily, voice relaxed as he makes idle small talk. None of the anxiety fogging up John’s mind seems to be present in Lafayette’s accented voice, so perhaps he genuinely finds idle conversation easy to maintain. John, however, is a mess of shocky nerves inside. His responses are awkward and choppy and his mind is too consumed with berating him for the stupidity of his previous statements to properly pay attention to what Lafayette’s saying presently.

Despite his flurry of road-rage laden text messages, John wouldn’t put it past Alex to be intentionally late in the hopes of forcing some sort of bonding session between Lafayette and John. He can’t even bring himself to be mad because he sees how desperately Alex wants them to get along. It’s almost cute, his eagerness to have everything click into place in an ideal way, but John still holds his reservations.

“I don’t know how we’ll ever be friends,” John blurts, unintentionally cutting off Lafayette’s discussion of the merits of the new bike lane on Route 2. At Lafayette’s startled gaze, he hurries to add, “I mean, not that I don’t want to be. For Alex’s sake, you know. But, still. We’re…different?”

Lafayette’s gaze softens and a doubtful smile picks at the corners of his lips. “It does seem far-off, doesn’t it? But, John, please understand, it is not only for Alex’s sake that I wish us to become closer.”

John can only stare, unsure. He focuses on the gentle slosh of the deep red wine in Lafayette’s glass as he swishes it absentmindedly.

“I understand that the John Alex immortalized for me feels like a distant person for you, but I would quite like to get know you as you are now. Not for Alex, but for me. For you.”

The image of Lafayette standing in the kitchen, shirtless and smiling easily at John’s stacked pile of strawberry candy wrappers, floods his memory. In his mind’s eye, the already dim lighting curved around the strong physique, giving Lafayette a warm glow. The tenderness between them had felt nearly tangible and a connection John had never expected had hummed steadily between them, somehow already firm even as John tried to pull his end loose. He remembers the realization unfolding in his mind.

Lafayette is someone he could have loved.

John sees it even now, in Lafayette’s steadfast gaze and in the languid way his elegant body settles in the armchair. Most importantly, he sees it in the way he cares for Alex. There’s something strong but dependable there, something colored with sorrow but shaded with tender affection. There are very few people in the world John would trust Alex’s well-being and happiness to. John might be willing to play fast and loose with his own safety, but never with Alex’s. Yet, he can’t deny that Lafayette has clearly exceeded expectations. In fact, there’s no one John would rather Alex be with. And there’s a tiny, shriveled thing inside of him that perks up when he sees their easy affection and seamless interactions. There’s an envious little bud inside of him that begs for such attention. It thrives on the thought of receiving such love for himself.

Lafayette’s gaze is open and oh so willing. His arms are strong and his heart is full. The only one pushing back is John himself. And John may be a piece of shit human who didn’t deserve the love that Alex and Lafayette dangle in front of him, but he can’t help but think he does deserve to be a little selfish. If not after nearly a year of a hell most people only live in their nightmares, then when? How selfish is it, really, if Alex and Lafayette’s hopeful eyes and desperate gazes want it too? If he can just start building the bridge on his end, surely they will meet him halfway?

It’s not always easy, taking a step for the best. But sometimes the path is too clear to ignore.

“So get to know me,” he challenges, feeling a new resolve firming up in his chest. The opportunity is there for the taking. They’d talked about it last night. This was what they all wanted. Who is John to build up roadblocks for them?

He wants to learn to love Lafayette. He wants Lafayette to love him.

Not for Alex’s sake, but for his own.

“I like to draw,” he says randomly when Lafayette seems too startled by his aggressive challenge of friendship to continue. John plows on, cramming his personality down Lafayette’s throat in his sudden drive to get the hell out of his own way. “I like going to the gym and going on runs, but I don’t eat anything green and leafy. That’s the real devil’s lettuce. Nothing pisses me off faster than animals being mistreated, and I won’t hesitate to fight you if you think football is better than hockey. Peach crumble is my favorite dessert and I eat pizza with ranch and that’s the way you’re supposed to do it. I’m a morning person usually, even though it pisses Alex off, but expect nothing less than swift death if you wake me up when I’m napping.”

Before him Lafayette has dissolved into giggles, one slim hand coming up to hover delicately in front of his gaping mouth. His eyes twinkle happily as he stares at something over John’s shoulder. When John turns, he finds Alex leaning in the doorway, looking close to overjoyed tears. He’s clutching a dozen roses – a three way mixture of red, white, and pink – to his chest, and his smile threatens to devour his face. 

“He’s also terrible at the cereal to milk ratio and his idea of a quality TV show is _The Simpsons_, so clearly he’s lacking in cultural sophistication.”

“Excuse me?” John demands, mock outrage blossoming on his face as his hand flies to his chest in shock. “Coming from the man who still reads the comic section in the paper?”

“He likes kale,” Alex accuses, finger jabbing urgently towards Lafayette.

“Dear God,” John breathes. “I don’t think this relationship is going to work on after all.”

“Excuse you both,” Lafayette sniffs, “a balanced diet is the greatest gift you can give your body.”

It’s easy, so much easier than John expected, to give himself up to the banter that, not ten minutes ago, felt foreign and unreachable. But here it is, ready on the tip of his tongue. Pulling himself into the old fold doesn’t take more than a starting push, even if Lafayette adds a few bends here and there John isn’t used to. It’s okay because Alex and John aren’t the same creases anymore either.

They can learn to fold together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me through this ride. Your kind words and kudos mean the world to me. I admit I'm struggling right now with my confidence as a writer and just general depression-y shit, so if you have the time, a comment would be much appreciated :)
> 
> Wishing you all the best! Stay happy, stay healthy <3


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